


Safe and Sound

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, [Blank] to Lovers - A gets in trouble or injured protecting B; which makes B see A in a new light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Jaskier comes to Geralt's rescue; Geralt is not sure what to think about this.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 159
Collections: Hurt Comfort Exchange 2020





	Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaragdbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/gifts).



A shortcut through a swamp, in retrospect, had been a bad idea. It had not been _Jaskier's_ idea. Geralt had not even been _looking_ for this monster. It had had no right to go rising out of the mud and pulling Geralt under. 

Before that, it had been rather a nice day. They had been traveling in sunlight before entering the dark of the wood, and even as the ground grew marshier, it had still been a nice walk. Geralt had dismounted and led Roach; Jaskier had begun singing a happy tune, playing his lute to make the walk even more pleasant. 

The path they were walking on was dry, raised somewhat from the swampland on either side. Geralt said something about old roads constructed centuries ago that had been left behind by their makers.

"Considerate of them," Jaskier said, taking a break in his strumming. 

"I don't think they—" What Geralt didn't think went unsaid, because that was when the… thing… emerged from the swamp, seized Geralt around the middle, and disappeared with him.

"Geralt?" Jaskier shouted. "Geralt?" 

There was silence, aside from Roach's distressed whinnies. Then there was a splash and Geralt emerged from the water—Jaskier hesitated to call it water, but he had to call it something—still attached to the… thing. 

Jaskier could now see it was long and black, but he could not see to what, if anything, it might have been attached. It put him in mind of tentacles, but he didn't want to think about how big the thing might have been if its appendages were that long… 

"Geralt!" 

Geralt was clearly trying to extricate himself, but doing a poor job of it, as he only had the use of one arm and could not get at his sword.

Two, Jaskier remembered. Geralt had two swords. He darted forward; yes, the other one was still strapped to Roach. He drew it from its scabbard and ran back to the edge of the path. He was afraid to set foot in the swamp; if that thing lived under the water and all Jaskier could see was the one tentacle, there was no telling how deep the water was. 

If it was water.

Jaskier waited for Geralt and the thing to emerge again, and then, he swung. 

He met resistance slicing through the thing's skin (if it was skin), not to mention he'd never held a sword before, but Geralt's sword was sharp and it did its job. The tentacle was severed, and Geralt dropped. 

That was the last thing Jaskier remembered before something—of course the thing had more than one tentacle—wrapped around his chest and pulled him backwards into the bog on the other side of the path.

**

Geralt acted quickly once he was free. He snatched up the sword Jaskier had dropped and charged across the path. He leaped straight into the muck, having gotten much acquainted with the other side. It wasn't deep—it only came up to his neck—and he'd seen the body of the thing on the other side even if he hadn't managed to kill it. 

This one would be far easier to kill, since it didn't have hold of him. He could move his arms and Jaskier wasn't providing much resistance, so the thing was more content. He only had the vaguest idea of where its mouth might be, and he wasn't keen on finding out by letting it eat Jaskier. 

He sliced downwards more or less blindly, making as many cuts as he needed to be sure the thing was dead. Then he followed the tentacle to where Jaskier was and cut him free. 

He was conscious, but barely. At least he was alive. 

Geralt swung him over his shoulder and made his way back to the path. There was no more danger from the monster, and his only thought was getting Jaskier out of the swamp before the second one—or a potential third one—came back. 

"Be gentle," he told Roach as he lifted Jaskier into the saddle and then mounted up behind him. "We'll have to go fast. I think you know that." 

She did not need to be told twice and was off at a gallop along the narrow path. 

There was nowhere to go but forward so Roach required little guidance. That gave Geralt time to think. 

None of his thoughts were good. 

They should not have taken this shortcut. Geralt ought to have been more vigilant. How could he not have noticed the threat? If he had not been grabbed, Jaskier would never have been forced to help him. If Jaskier died… 

He should have known that nothing good would come of letting him tag along with him. 

Thankfully, Roach did not fail to get them to safety, though she was steaming by the time they stopped. Geralt had checked often that Jaskier was still breathing, and he was. All the while, he searched his memory for what kind of creature it could have been. 

He dismounted and laid Jaskier gingerly in the dirt. One of the potions in his kit would have to work, but he was reluctant to try some of them on a human without being sure. 

Another reason he ought not to have had Jaskier with him in the first place. 

Geralt hastened to build a fire and see to Roach who was content to munch on the grass which grew abundantly around the clearing and refresh herself from a nearby spring. They would be safe here for some time, he thought. 

"Geralt?" Jaskier's voice was weak, but he could hear it from the other side of the clearing where he had been gathering firewood. 

"I'm here." 

He dropped down beside Jaskier, though he hesitated to touch him. 

"Are you all right?" Jaskier asked. 

"Am _I_ all right?" Why would he be worried about Geralt? 

"It was tossing you all over the place." Jaskier smiled weakly. "Not hard to think you might be injured." 

Geralt had barely noted being tossed around by the creature. "I can handle it," he said. "You on the other hand…."

"I'm all right. Where's my lute?" Jaskier sat up, then fell back, wincing. "All right. I think I may be injured." 

"Stay there," Geralt said, beginning to grow annoyed again. He was glad he'd remembered to pick up Jaskier's dropped lute, though, as he had not given it a thought since. He rose and began gathering firewood again; it was not long before a small campfire was blazing and he had moved Jaskier nearer to get some warmth. 

"Let me see," he said, trying to gentle his voice. It wasn't Jaskier's fault—for once—that he'd been injured; it was Geralt's own. He had a responsibility to do something about it.

He began unbuttoning Jaskier's doublet, even as he winced. "It's for your own good," he said. 

"I know." Jaskier's face twisted with pain. "But might I have something? Wine perhaps."

"We don't have any wine." They had Witcher healing potions, but he was reluctant to inflict them on Jaskier before he knew what he was dealing with. 

"Very well," Jaskier said. "I shall suffer in silence." 

Geralt grunted. "I'll have to get your clothes off." 

Jaskier made neither objection nor ribald remark, which was how Geralt knew he was truly in pain. He tried to be gentle, though he knew very little about being gentle. He was also trying not to alarm Jaskier, though he could not help his sharp intake of breath when he saw what was under his clothes.  
.   
Jaskier's clothes had been too covered in mud for him to have gotten a sense of the full extent of the damage, but now he could see that where the tentacle had wrapped around Jaskier were left burn-like marks. 

Geralt supposed his own armor and healing abilities had protected him, but Jaskier possessed neither of these things. Geralt busied himself with unpacking and preparing his supplies so he wouldn't have to think too hard about that fact. 

"What's wrong?" Jaskier asked. 

"Nothing."

"It doesn't seem like nothing from the face you're making." 

"I'll fix it," he said. "You can trust that."

"I do." Jaskier's expression sent a strange feeling swimming through him. He really had done nothing to deserve such trust. "I'm going to move you, all right? You'll be more comfortable on the bedroll than you will on the ground." 

Jaskier did not even have a smart reply to this, which was worrisome. Geralt selected a lesser-strength potion. It was made from some of the same ingredients used by human healers, and there was hardly any magic in it at all, so he hoped it would suit.

He lifted Jaskier's head so he could drink, which he did without question. Then, he set about treating the wounds. 

Working with the healing supplies was something he could do without much thought, though treating someone else was a new experience. His hands were shaking as he tried to open the packets. 

"Fuck." 

Jaskier did not stir; he must have slipped back into unconsciousness not to have responded to that. 

Perhaps that was better; he did not have to converse with Jaskier as he mixed his poultice and slathered it on his wounds. Once done, he settled himself, exhausted, by the fire to stare into it. He knew he would have to eat eventually; Jaskier would have to eat, but he lacked the energy to do anything about it. 

Instead, he could not stop thinking about what he could have done to prevent this. 

It was past nightfall before he bestirred himself to begin warming some broth in a pot over the fire. When Jaskier woke, it would be good for him. Geralt added a sprinkling of healing herbs, which couldn't hurt. They might even improve the taste.

A noise behind him told him Jaskier was rousing.

"How do you feel?" he said, not turning around. If he didn't have to see him, he didn't have to think about the extent of his injuries, or how he'd gotten them. 

"…Bad." There was a rustling sound that he supposed was Jaskier trying and failing to sit up. "What have you got stuck to me?" 

"Don't take it off, it's to hold the poultice on." He turned and rose, bowl of broth in his hand. "Drink this."

Jaskier looked skeptical in the meager light from the fire. 

"It's soup," Geralt explained. He didn't mention what he'd added, and Jaskier allowed himself to be helped to drink it. 

"And you're all right?" Jaskier asked.

"Yes." Geralt tried not to sound exasperated. He settled down to sit beside Jaskier. "Are you warm enough?" 

"Yes." Jaskier smiled at him. He looked slightly sleepy, something Geralt found he liked. "Are you?" 

"Yes. Stop asking _me_ questions." 

"I was worried about you." Jaskier still sounded worried, and Geralt could not fathom why.

"Well, I'm all right. It's you I'm worried about now." 

Jaskier shifted; he did sit up now, though he winced a bit. "You're worried about me?" Through his sleepy haze, he sounded… 

Geralt swallowed hard. He hadn't meant to say that, per se. But now he found he could not tell Jaskier that. "Of course I was," he said gruffly. "I was alarmed by your lapsing into unconsciousness and your charging into situations you have no business in."

"So saving your life is something I have no business in?" 

"You didn't have to. I can handle myself."

"You didn't seem to be handling yourself. You seemed to be losing." 

Geralt grunted. "You don't even know how to use a sword."

"I comported myself rather well." There was a twinkle in Jaskier's eyes; he looked more like himself, to Geralt's relief. "It's not that hard, really. Swing the sharp thing at the bad thing. You survived and so did I."

"Barely." Geralt could still see Jaskier being snatched into the bog playing in his mind's eye, could still see him right after Geralt had pulled him out. He never wanted to see that again. 

"And if I hadn't been there, what would happen to you?" 

"What?" Geralt turned and actually looked at him. 

"You'd be dead."

"I wouldn't—" Geralt began. 

"Oh, really?" 

Geralt frowned. He really had been quite dizzy when the thing had been jerking him around; he had not been able to defend himself. He might well have died. If not for Jaskier. 

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "Jaskier…" He was lost as to what else to say. Jaskier was still _looking_ at him, making him wonder if it would be so bad if he stayed around. 

Or kissed him. 

He had this thought right as he was leaning forward. 

When their lips met, Jaskier made a surprised noise, but he soon realized what was happening. He tried to be gentle, but Jaskier seized his shirtfront with his free hand as if to say what he thought of Geralt pulling back.

But, in time, they did part. 

"There," Jaskier said. "Took you long enough." 

Geralt blinked. "Jaskier, you are…"

"Wonderful? Loveable? Responsible for saving your life?" 

"All of those things," Geralt said. "And then some." He kissed Jaskier's forehead. "But you need your rest." 

"And so do you, I'm sure." Jaskier was seeming more like himself now, lowering his eyelashes seductively.

"Not the kind of resting I had in mind." 

"No, I am actually tired." Jaskier yawned. "And you must be, too." 

"I have to keep watch." 

"As though your Witcher senses won't wake you in a second." Jaskier rolled over, as though trying to look enticing. 

Geralt sighed and settled down beside him, gingerly slipping an arm around him in an attempt to avoid touching his wounds. 

"How is that?" He could not help but feel a little silly, but Jaskier snuggling closer quickly banished that feeling. 

"Fantastic." Jaskier's smile made him feel that silly warm feeling again and the only thing he could think to do was kiss him. Jaskier seemed pleased with this.

"I won't sleep," he warned him when Jaskier had settled back into his position snuggled against him. 

"That's all right. You'll be there to protect me." 

Geralt waited as Jaskier gradually drifted off to sleep. At least if he did not sleep, he could watch Jaskier. That would be pleasant in and of itself. 

And perhaps, eventually, if he was _truly_ tired, he would sleep himself. They were safe here.


End file.
